


I Keep Running Into Walls That I Can't Break Down

by nonbinaryvamp



Category: Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Guns, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 01:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14125320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinaryvamp/pseuds/nonbinaryvamp
Summary: Dark had seen it happen before, an ego manage to die. He had watched many smaller egos perish for simple reasons, some forgotten or killed. Some had taken their own lives.





	I Keep Running Into Walls That I Can't Break Down

**Author's Note:**

> Read the warnings and take them into consideration.
> 
>  
> 
> Title from: 'Sleepwalker' by Adam Lambert

Wilford sat, tears cascading down his face, in Dark’s room. It was a normal occurrence, it happened quite frequently, and yet something was different. The house felt silent for the first time since he could remember. Dark sat, stoic as ever. Methodically planning how to break the man in such ways only the maniac himself would find room to enjoy. The sobs wracking the older’s body has never phased him like it had the others.

The others knew Wilford’s room was always open and they could never really handle any of Warfstache’s issues. Darkiplier found solace in his ability to torture the man to new lengths and then comfort him all the same. Inside of him Celine and Damien swirled in anger and sorrow, leaving a river of green emotion in their wake. That green was the only thing Dark never understood about them, but he knew his own limits.

He thought he did.

 

* * *

 

Wilford Warfstache was never allowed to touch a gun, especially the ones in Dark’s safe. If he ever slipped up on the code, Dark would've easily burned said safe before continuing with his safety precautions around the pink-haired man's life. It was exactly that, never considered and never strayed from. A rule to say William's life, demanded by Damien and Celine. They didn't want to watch their poor friend die at the hands of himself or whatever trouble Warfstache got in to. That night they created a tornado in Dark’s dream. Behind said tornado came a green wake. Like a speedboat had created more than just a ripple in the swamp. The gators and fish saw it well.

 

* * *

Wilford found a gun on work. He kept it hidden for months after forgetting about it, and one day found it. 

For the next week he didn't sleep. Finally he pulled himself to Darkiplier’s room, wordlessly sitting down with his back to the inside of the door. Dark was asleep on his large black bed. 

Wilford wasn't going to wake him over such a trivial thing getting to him. He'd had guns in the past, this one shouldn't get to him. Before Dark awoke he slipped back out the door and back to his own took to prepare for the day.

 

* * *

 

The voices in Wilford’s head became a problem. They only ever hurt him or talked about that gun. Sometimes they would rant and rave about both. Today, however, there were talking about the other egos. Mainly Dark. Thousands of words flew through his head about the other man, talking about his looks and his personality. Talking about how amazing be was, to far more inappropriate things. Wilford ignored it, and stayed far away from Dark. He feared the man would hear inside his head and judge him. He was already embarrassed enough from The Host narrating certain thoughts. The Author was fucked up, but Host just tended to be a huge invasion of privacy.

 

* * *

 

One day he picked up the gun, just to feel the weight of so many lives in his hands. That same day, Host talked a bit too much at dinner, and Bim stopped the meal in its tracks to announce what the Host had mumbled. He could feel everyone's eyes on him as he lowered his head and dashed out of the room, narrowly missing each of their hands reached out to grab him as he ran past. Dark yelled at everyone to leave them alone and ran after Wilford by himself, prepared to scold the man and take the gun.

He didn't expect to have to break down the door to Wilford’s bathroom and find the man on the floor, empty pill bottles scattered around him and a gun pressed to his temple.

Dark had seen it happen before, an ego manage to die. He had watched many smaller egos perish for simple reasons, some forgotten or killed. Some had taken their own lives.

He was terrified. Every voice in his broken shell of a being screamed. As of now, Wilford could survive the pills with proper care.

There was no way to survive a bullet lodged in his brain.

So he lunged forward, the shadows twisted around him and pushed him further. It felt like an eternity before he was on his knees in front of the man, knocking the gun out of his grip.

“You son of a bitch.” Was all Dark muttered before pulling the other man into his arms and warping then into the Doc’s shared office. Schneeplestein was the only one there, him quickly rising from his chair and striding across the room to help Dark put Wilford on the table.

They had an unspoken conversation, the doctor realized Wilford was hurt and proceeded to use his abnormal abilities to help, while Dark stood to the side and tried to keep his raging form together and to himself. 

It wasn't odd for him to lose control of himself and the aura, especially with strong emotions coming into play. This deck of cards just kept giving them and William the wrong hand, and it tended to be times like those that even Damien lost control of his emotions, causing the entire form to go awry.

After a long time of the doctor working he seemed to settle and turn around. There was a sour look on his face and Dark could tell there was something wrong.

“He'll be fine.” Was all Dr.Schneeplestein said, returning to his desk to work.

Somehow, all three people trapped inside Dark were okay with this inquiry. William- Wilford would wake up and everything would go back to normal, because that's how bubblegum worked. If it got popped it just reformed, occasionally making a forgivable mess.

So they hoped that their dear Wilford could recover in all ways, but they knew he could never. This was their curse, and they had to see it to the end.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're mad that this probably had many mistakes and is pretty all over the place please just get over it now.


End file.
